


Next door

by CastielsCarma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester are Neighbors, DestielFFPrompt (Supernatural), M/M, Meet-Cute, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26043250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: When Mildred, Dean's neighbor moves out, he feels kind of down. That changes when Castiel, the new neighbor moves in. Dean thinks he's hot as hell. Too bad he's annoying as hell too, with his incense and loud chanting that wakes him up in the mornings. From feeling down, Dean is now pissed all the time. Will Dean come to embrace Castiel or will the man next door continue to be a nuisance?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 107





	Next door

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt about bickering neighbors I found in the Destiel Forever group on Facebook. This is un-betad. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> I saw this prompt and had to pick it. Meet-cutes are always fun to write and toss in a side of pining and it's a done deal. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always dear readers, I appreciate you, your comments, and kudos greatly. <3 Be safe out there!

Dean exhales and knocks on the door. It's a simple duplex house and he's lived there for three years, which seems like a blip considering how long his neighbor has been there.

The old oak door opens and Dean smiles when he sees the woman. “Hey, Mildred. Looking fancy today.”

Mildred smiles. “I'm just about to leave. I was actually heading over to you. It's a big day, so I think I should look my best.”

Dean takes in her pearl necklace, the smart pants, and blue blouse. Her hair is as always impeccable, white as the snow but today it's combed with something else cause Dean thinks there's a shine to it. “I'd say... new haircut?”

Mildred reaches for her hair and fluffs it with her hands. “Dean, you know how to make a woman feel special. But no, no new haircut, although I did use argan oil.”

“Oh.”

“They say that it keeps the ends nice and soft, and it prevents split ends.”

Dean hugs her with one arm and smells her perfume. It's also new. “I think the ends wouldn't dare split for you.” He thrusts the gift at her before he changes his mind. “A little something for you.”

Mildred smiles, and the soft crinkles around her eyes make her look beautiful. “You didn't need to, Dean.” There is warmth in her voice and Dean realizes he's really gonna miss her.

“Well, it's not every day your best neighbor moves because she meets a dude.”

Mildred laughs. “I don't think he can be called dude but I'll take the compliment. Roger is a gem. I'm lucky I found him.” She shakes the package lightly.

Dean clears his throat. “It's knitting spikes.”

“Only you would call them that, Dean.”

Dean rubs his neck. “Yeah, well, it's more badass than needles.”

Mildred raises an eyebrow. “May I? I'd offer you to come in but then you'd have to sit on the floor.”

“Oh, I thought it was in a few days.”

Mildred shakes her head. “Roger is taking me on a cruise, so while the truck drives across the country, I'll be with a drink in hand enjoying the sun. And Roger.” She winks at him and Dean laughs.

“You go, Mildred.”

Mildred is busy opening up the package and when she sees the needles, her eyes find Dean's. She shakes her head in disbelief. “Oh no, you didn't, Dean.”

Dean licks his lips and rolls back on his heels. He goes for a nonchalant shrug. “It's nothing. It's the Twist red lace one. Chiagoo right? You can connect cords too. I heard that's a good thing.”

Mildred envelops him in a hug so suddenly, that Dean almost stumbles into her. When she releases him, she whispers a thank you. “It's too much.”

“Well, I've enjoyed having you as a neighbor... with your advice and all.” Dean's mind quickly supplies him with seven different memories of Mildred giving him advice. And they were not kind of advice where she revealed the secret to her soft sponge cake or how she managed to keep her petunias alive for more than two weeks. No, the advice Mildred gave was of the more personal kind.

“Are you ready for one last advice?”

Dean narrows his eyes but finally sighs deeply and tries not to roll his eyes. “Sure, Mildred, fire away.”

She takes his hand and squeezes it tightly. “Follow your heart, Dean. It will not lead you wrong. Be fearless.”

Dean scoffs. “I'd rather follow my gut and it's telling me I need a pizza. I'm starving.”

A surprisingly hard squeeze on his hand makes him gasp. “Hey!” The look Mildred gives him makes him swallow his next words. “Fine. I'll do that.”

When Mildred raises her brows, expecting more, Dean sighs but gives in nonetheless. “I'll promise to follow my heart. Pinkie-swear.”

Mildred nods as if that settles it. “I'll miss you, Dean Winchester. You have a good heart. Thank you for the gift.”

A few weeks go by and the “For Sale” signs flaps lazily in the wind. Conflicting emotions war inside Dean. He really misses Mildred and her witty humor. He also misses her cookie drop-offs that she used to make, whether that be chocolate chip cookie ones, or that gooey chocolate cake recipe her Swedish daughter-in-law had given her.

But it's also nice to be able to be alone. He can blast Zeppelin without worrying that Mildred will have a heart attack and he doesn't get any disapproving stares when he orders take-out the third time that week. It's not like it's fun cooking for yourself anyway.

Dean sits in his favorite spot on the couch, watching _Hannibal_ when a small truck stops in front of his house. A loud beeping noise reveals that the truck is backing up. Dean pauses the TV – he was at the part where Will finds the heart made of bodies that Hannibal left him, the romantic son of a bitch – and moves to the other side, so he can look out the window.

He can see that it's a truck but that's about it. For a few seconds, he debates if he should go outside but decides not to. Sure, it's barely five in the afternoon on a Saturday but he figures the new owners want some privacy. He can always knock tomorrow and introduce himself.

Sunday arrives and with it no trace of the truck. Dean blinks as he looks at the window. He's heard about quick moves but this has to be some kind of record. He blinks again when he sees the car standing in the driveway. It's an old car, but Dean wouldn't call it a classic. It's a Lincoln Continental Mark V in a hideous puke-yellow color. Sure, it looks well kept but it's not an Impala 67.

Dean gulps down his breakfast coffee and defrosts one of the bread rolls Mildred had left him. It tastes amazing with some cheese and jam and he eats two more before he's full. He pulls on a pair of jeans, looks down at his Iron Maiden T-shirt – it's clean, so it will do – and brushes his teeth quickly.

With ten steps he's at the door. He took a shortcut over a patch of grass. Mildred hated it when he did that, but she never said it out loud. Instead, she started putting garden ornaments on the patch; a small unicorn, a little gnome with bulging eyes, and a concrete heart. Dean finally got the message and took the paved path instead. Dean figures the new neighbor won't care about such things.

The sale sign is already gone. Dean knocks and waits.

Soon, he hears shuffling steps and the door opens.

The most gorgeous man he's ever laid eyes on looks at him and Dean freezes. His mind goes blank but his cock is definitely awake as blood rushes down, making him instantly hard. The feeling jolts his mind awake because all these rationals thoughts fill his head, like _No, Dean,_ and _He's your neighbor, Dean,_ and _Been there, done that, Dean._

Dean decides to ignore his mind, it has no idea what it's talking about. His neighbor has thick, dark luscious hair, full, very kissable lips, and the bluest eyes he's ever seen. The rest of him is also way too good-looking. He looks strong, has a muscular build, and Dean's eyes flash down quickly taking in his thighs before finding his face again. He has most definitely not done that.

All of him is so good-looking that Dean even manages to ignore the things that are not so good-looking. He wears some kind of flimsy pants – sure, Dean thinks he can almost see the outline of his cook' and he thinks the guy is wearing a tunic – but even that is just a mere annoyance; he's simply the most beautiful man ever and he's Dean's neighbor. “Uh, hi, I'm Dean. Dean Winchester, your neighbor. Just wanted to stop by and say 'welcome to the neighborhood'.”

“Hi, Dean. I'm Castiel.” His voice is deep and has a rough edge to it, that sets Dean on edge. It's the pleasant kind of edge, where you won't know what to expect and you don't want to know. The kind that promises thrills and excitement.

Dean takes his hand and warmth rushes from the top of his head right out to his hand. He hopes that Castiel doesn't get suddenly assaulted with Dean's sweat. He quickly removes his hand and wipes it on his pants but stealthily. He doesn't want Castiel to think he's some kind of weirdo.

“So... anything else?” Castiel's voice is unchanged but Dean notices a flicker of amusement in his eyes and realizes that he's been just standing there like a moron.

“Uh, no, just hi and hello.” Hi and hello, someone please shot him. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” Just as Dean says that he realizes that he already said that a few seconds ago.

“Alright, Dean, thanks. I do feel very welcomed. Cya around.”

Dean waves goodbye and walks over to his house, feeling like an idiot. A horny idiot but an idiot nonetheless.

Apparently when Dean sleeps his mind changes from rational Dr. Jekyll to a lust ridden Mr. Hyde. Every thought about not fucking his neighbor goes out the window as all kinds of explicit images overwhelm him.

Dean on his knees not sucking Castiel off – no, not that – but Dean fighting to breathe as Castiel's cock rams down his throat. Saliva running down Dean's chin and he swallows as he's trying to back away, his hands gripping Castiel's strong thighs.

Dean on his hands and knees, whimpering, practically begging for Castiel's cock in his needy hole. His neglected cock twitches but all Dean can think about is Castiel's hand on his skin and the imminent feeling of being full.

Dean being pushed against the wall. Castiel's hand wraps around his throat, almost nonchalantly as his other hand roams over Dean's body, finding every hidden note and how he expertly makes Dean sing.

Dean wakes up with sticky sheets and hard-on number who the fuck is counting. Great. His new neighbor has barely lived there for a day and Dean is already a goner.

Dean wakes up with sticky sheets and a hard-on. He wraps his hand around his cock lazily but the feeling of sweat and how the sheets get stuck on his body is unnerving. He grumbles and glances at his cell phone after pressing a sweaty thumb on the screen.

“Enough already,” Dean mutters as he stomps over to the window. “It's my fucking home and if I want to open the windows, I'll open the damn windows.” He opens the latch and pushes the window open. A cool breeze hits him in the face and Dean inhales only to wrinkle his nose and cough in disgust. He's going to kill Cas, no question about it.

He promptly shuts the window again. It's six in the morning and if he just relaxes, he can get another hour of shut-eye. He adjusts the sheets and arranges it over his stomach while leaving the rest of his body exposed. He'll take any coolness he can at this point.

Just when he's in that sweet spot between falling asleep and being awake, when the dreams are weird as fuck but very vivid, he hears a blaring sound. It's not really blaring but deep and ominous, a creepy dude singing 'Om'. A bell or something tolls now and then.

Dean sits up in bed and grabs the phone. He has Castiel's number because he asked him once if he could give his address for a package dropoff – he couldn't be home and this was one of those packages that were important and expensive – and Cas had agreed. That was from before when Dean didn't know what a fucking pain in the ass Cas is.

His fingers fly as he types. Seriously _, Cas?! What the fuck are you listening to?_

The music doesn't stop but Dean's phone pings.

_It's chanting._

Dean grits his teeth and does his best not to throw his phone against the wall in frustration. How can someone so hot be so goddamn annoying? It must be the universe that is punishing him somehow. He can hear Mildred's last words; follow your heart.

His heart tells him to go over and punch the guy. _I can hear it's chanting. I can hear it through the goddamn wall and it makes me want to murder someone. You're closest._

The deep chants stop and Dean breaths a sigh of relief when his phone pings again. _It's a chant that promotes peace and calm. It seems you need it more than me. Take deep breaths and chant with me. Om._

The chanting starts anew, louder this time.

Dean's fingers fly over the screen. _You're a monster._

_Namaste._

He gives up and tosses the sheet to the side. Time to get up, apparently.

When the coffee is done and the toast is nice and crisp, the music or noise pollution is still going strong. Dean sighs and grabs his headphones. Over his ears, the chanting is now just a dull annoying sound, instead of a blaring annoying sound.

Pushing away the last piece of toast, one side too burned for Dean's liking, he gulps down the last of the juice. Not even his usual dose of caffeine calms him down. He walks over the bathroom and turns on the shower. The water is hot and steam quickly fogs over the mirrors.

Dean doesn't care. He steps out of his underwear and tosses them on the floor. A hand swipes over his face but it does little to mitigate the crippling tiredness. Six fucking am. A hot shower will wake him up and then he can forget about this miserable morning.

He takes two steps into the shower and sighs as the hot water cascades down over his body. He turns this way and that and enjoys the feel of his muscles relaxing. A weird echo makes his eyes flash open. “Fuck! Cas!”

With an angry yelp, Dean flies out of the shower and almost trips on the floor and breaks his neck. He grabs hold of a towel rack and pulls away his headphones, hoping that they are salvageable. The faint echo of chanting and humming can be heard but all Dean can think about is his messed up headphones and one annoying neighbor named Castiel.

Dean is optimistic, at least he thinks so of himself. There is always a way, that's one of his sayings. If there was a way to separate the body of Castiel with the actual person of Castiel, he'd do it in a heartbeat. The body of Castiel is hot as fuck, strong, and sexy. His eyes are a ridiculous shade of blue, so blue that Dean sometimes wonders if the guy is wearing contacts. The person of Castiel, for the most part, is constantly rubbing Dean the wrong way.

Sure, he seems kind – Dean has seen him help the other neighbors several times, he's even pruned Metatron's hedge and everyone knows Metatron is a grumpy old fucker, even Mildred avoided him – but he also burns what Dean has come to recognize is incense. So much so that Dean has to keep his windows closed to avoid the stench.

And sure, he's fit as hell and has a noble call; Dean has seen him come home several times, tired and worn in his hospital outfit. If Dean recalls correctly he's a pediatric nurse, and of course, he shouldn't hate a ped's nurse.

Hell, Dean admires that, Castiel working with kids. He does it too, although his field is education. As a preschool teacher, Dean can understand that call, and the fulfillment it brings when the kids in his charge grow and prosper. He guesses it's the same for Castiel.

How the hell can he be so infuriating then?

Dean is in the middle of a war, beating back Nazi scum when he hears a faint sound. He pauses the game and realizes it's a knock. With a sigh, he gets up. No matter how many times he's turned people's attention to the 'No soliciting'- sign, someone always ignores it. If it ain't someone selling Girl Scout cookies, Dean isn't buying.

He opens the door swiftly, a frown on his face. “What?”

Castiel is there, in his trademark loose linen pants and T-shirt today – with the peace sign in purple on black background – and Dean has to admit that he looks hot. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hi, Cas.” Dean sighs. “Look, I don't care if you do your yoga or listen to your weird-ass music, just tone it down alright. The walls are paper thin and I need my beauty sleep.”

Castiel looks remorseful of all things, but it is gone so quickly that Dean thinks that he's imagined it. “I don't think a lack of sleep would diminish a natural beauty like yours.”

Dean narrows his eyes. Did Castiel just compliment him? Just before Dean opens his mouth to ask for clarification, Castiel continues.

“You're late.”

“I'm late? Late for what?”

Castiel takes a step to the side and comes back into view with a broom in his hand. “For the cleaning.”

“What are you talking about?”

Castiel shakes his head. “Someone isn't reading the HOA newsletters. It's the annual spring cleaning. On Saturday. Saturday is today.”

Dean grabs his phone that he stuffed in his back pocket. “Cas, it's seven in the morning. Just no.”

Castiel turns around with his ridiculous broom. “Suit yourself. I'd rather work in the cool morning hours, than in the hot blistering sun. But maybe you like to be all sweaty and hot.” He turns his head back at Dean and Dean swears that Castiel winks at him.

“Fine, I'll be right there.”

When Dean closes the front door behind him, Castiel has already arranged a variety of tools on the front porch. A wooden basket, several kinds of brooms, a shovel, garden shears, gloves, and what looks like green plants.

His voice is deep and it sends shivers of pleasure through Dean. He could listen to Castiel all day, the cadence of his voice is pure sin. “I suggest we start with your side of the hedge.”

“Why my side?” Dean takes one look at his side of the hedge and knows why. While Cas' side is neatly trimmed, Dean's side looks like Edward Scissorhands went through it.

“It has seen better days. But don't worry, just a few snips with the shears and it will be healthy again.”

Castiel is on the hedge immediately and while his enthusiasm is exhausting, Dean does appreciate it. He also appreciates the way Castiel's muscles work and how his biceps flex as he works the shears. “You work like a pro.”

Castiel looks at Dean and smiles. “I did some gardening jobs back when I was in school during the summers. My body still remembers the movements. And it's nice to work with green things. I feel grounded to the earth.”

Dean shakes his head. Castiel was the least grounded person he knew with his weird songs and twisty contortion yoga.

Soon the hedge is finished. “Here. Make a pile of all the debris. You know where the basket is.”

Something with how Castiel says the words, commanding and with an expectation to be obeyed, sends a shiver of pleasure through Dean. “You're always this bossy?”, Dean grumbles but walks over and grabs the basket.

“Only when needed.”

Dean scoffs and grabs the broom. “And what, you think I need to be bossed around?”

Castiel stops his sweeping and looks at Dean for so long that he gets uncomfortable. Maybe there is something to the magic rocks and weird hemp teas of whatever it is Castiel drinks. Maybe he has developed some weird hippie powers. “I think you need it.” Castiel takes a few steps toward Dean until his chest is flushed with his. He leans in like he's about to drop a secret. Castiel whispers the next words. “I think you _**want**_ it.” Despite the morning chill, the words bring with them a wave of heat that washes over Dean's body.

Dean wants to say something smart ass back but he's so shocked that he barely remembers that he has a tongue, let alone that he can use words. Instead, he utters a sound that's something between a chocked cough and a bird squeak.

Castiel raises an eyebrow and Dean grabs the handle of the broom tighter and starts sweeping.

After that, the dreams about Castiel are back with full force. And it's not a rare occurrence, no. Every night, Castiel haunts him in his dreams with his deep and sexy voice, his strong body, and that assertiveness mixed with the unique strangeness that is only his.

Now and then, he can hear Mildred's call for him to follow his heart, and even that strange interlude is not enough to cool Dean down.

Dean wakes up from one of those disturbingly hot dreams, and it was so vivid that even now, Dean remembers the ghostly hands of Castiel all over his body. His fingers touching, caressing, and squeezing all the right places. He's horny as fuck and contemplates jerking off but he's also hot – in the nonsexy kind of way. He opens the window and pokes his head out. After a deep inhale, he fist pumps the air. Fuck, yeah, no gross smells.

He leaves the window open and walks into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he grabs a bottle of juice and takes a generous swipe. As he puts it back in place, he notices that something is off. The egg carton is pushed back into the corner, at a ninety-degree angle. The sour cream labels all face him and the two cans of Tikka Masala sauce and Tandoori are now next to each other instead of being tossed haplessly in one of the cooling boxes.

The milk carton is on the side shelf that's attached to the door instead of in the middle. Dean walks back to his bedroom and grabs the phone when he notices the message. It's from Cas.

_I used your hide-a-key to get into your place. I didn't have milk for my coffee and I finished my mediation early. It's a waste to toss good coffee away. I realigned your groceries too, for the best cooling distribution._

Dean looks at the phone like it's an alien. _That's scary, Cas. I didn't realize my hide-a-key was not so hidden._

After a few seconds, Dean's phone pings as Castiel replies. _It's scary that I borrowed milk? I'll replace it._

Dean doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. He settles for an exasperated sigh and replies. _No, Cas. It's scary that you broke into my house._

_I didn't break in. I used a key._

Dean snorts out a laugh. Gods help him, but Cas is adorable. The thought sobers him up. Sure, Cas has been sexy and good-looking – not to mention annoying as hell – since the first time Dean saw him but _adorable?_ That implies something else than Dean's desire to be fucked senseless by his neighbor and Dean is not sure he's ready to examine those feelings.

He fires off a text. _It's fine. Just knock next time. It'll always be open for you._

The reply is instantaneous. _I like it when it's open. I'll make sure to give you cream next time._

Dean is hard in seconds and a small groan escapes him. He's not sure what to reply so he just types in one word, a _lright_.

After that, he drops his phone and quickly slides out of his underwear. His hand wraps around his achingly hard cock, the head already angry and red. With just a few strokes he comes. “Cas...” Just uttering his name is enough. White stripes land on his belly and Dean exhales heavily. He's so screwed.

He walks over to his dresser and pulls up a piece of clothing to clean himself with. Dean realizes that he's holding a knitted tablecloth in the shape of a heart. Great. He just wiped come off with one of Mildred's knitted pieces. With a sigh, he drops the tablecloth on the floor.

Dean exhales and knocks on the door. He waits there for a few seconds and is almost relieved when no one answers. He knows Castiel is home because his car is in the driveway but he can't hear any music so he's not meditation at least. Maybe he's had a night shift and is asleep.

When Dean turns to walk away, he almost trips over the broom that lays like a deathtrap on the ground. He decides to be magnanimous and return it to Castiel's shed that he knows is in the back.

As he rounds the corner, he sees Castiel twisting like a pretzel while his breathing sounds closer to something a foghorn would emit. He knows it's a special kind of breathing that some do when practicing yoga, but to Dean, it just seems like the expressway to passing out.

Not that Castiel's body – practically naked with those skimpy shorts on – is helping with the being conscious part. He's sweaty but where on other people it would look gross, on him, it looks hot. His skin is warm and the sweat makes him almost glow.

Castiel seems unaware of his surroundings; his eyes are closed as he sits down and his chest is flat, bent over his extended right leg, while his hands are grasping around the right foot. Dean hurts just looking at him.

“Hey, you forgot your broom.”

Castiel gracefully unpretzels himself and jumps forward onto the mat. He does a forward fold, breathes in deeply and exhales before paying Dean any heed. “Come here.”

Dean walks over, broom in hand, and with each step, his confidence diminishes. What the hell is he doing here? Being an idiot because a knitted tablecloth told him so? He tries to follow his heart just like Mildred said but it's hard no to listen to his gut that practically yells at him to run.

Castiel rises from his position and looks at Dean, a slight smirk on his face. “Want to join me?”

Dean's eyes wander over Castiel's toned body that glistens with sweat and Dean thinks that he'd like to be the reason for Castiel being all sweaty. “I don't know... I think you'd have to drive me to the hospital afterward.”

Castiel laughs and it's a deep laugh that stirs up butterflies the size of brown bears in Dean's gut.

Dean licks his lips and tries to remember to focus on Castiel's eyes but even that is hard because the look he finds there is one of pure hunger.

“I think you're not giving yourself enough credit, Dean. Maybe you're naturally flexible.” He shrugs as he walks past Dean. “Doesn't matter really, it's all about breath anyway.”

“I can breathe.” Dean realizes too late that he sounds like a moron but Castiel just laughs.

“Good to know. That's a check on my list. He breathes.”

Warmth colors Dean's cheeks. Cocky bastard. “You have a list?”

Castiel stops at the glass door to his backyard. It's much fancier than his, but Mildred did like fanciful stuff, knitted tablecloths, and gilded clocks. “I do. I find it useful to write down thoughts and desires; it makes it easier for me or the universe to manifest it then. It's all the same. Goes much faster for the expert though.” Castiel stops for a second. “You coming?”

Dean knows that it isn't what Castiel means but why does he have to make every word sound so dirty then? He drops the broom and walks over to Castiel, but not too fast. He doesn't want to seem too eager. “Are you inviting me in for... yoga?”

Castiel shakes his head and his eyes are shining with laughter. “No. Breakfast. But the yoga offer stands. Consider it an open invitation. Come on in.” He walks inside and Dean follows.

He stops right inside and slowly inhales.

“It's fine, Dean. I haven't meditated with incense today.”

“That wasn't... I wasn't sniffing the air.”

Castiel just grins. “I'm going to take a quick shower. Go set the table. The kitchen is over there... but you probably know that already.”

Dean stammers. “Why do you think that? Not like I have been skulking around your house.”

“I wasn't skulking. I had a key. If you were awake, you'd notice I was inside. I know you and Mildred were close. She talked a lot about you.” He pauses. “I have all the breakfast stuff you need. Oh, just a heads up. I'm a vegetarian.” With that Castiel starts walking towards the bathroom.

“What does a vegetarian eat for breakfast? Seeds and cheese?”

Castiel calls from the bathroom. “If we want. Although I'd consider that a snack. I was expecting you, so don't worry.”

Dean stops. What the hell does that mean? Did Castiel plan all this? No, that's not possible. For all he knew, Dean hated his guts. Dean opens the fridge and sees eggs, two kinds of hummus, a variety of vegetables, and a bag of cucumber snacks. Cucumber snacks. Someone save him.

Then he sees it. At the bottom of the fridge in a plastic drawer, in a glass container with a lid on is something that a vegetarian would never touch. It's been packaged like it's nuclear waste and not meat. Dean takes out the container and opens the lid. It's the good-kind of bacon, the thick-cut and hickory smoked just like Dean likes it.

Dean shakes his head in disbelief and puts it on the counter. He opens another cupboard and finds a small frying pan with a post-it on it. _Bacon pan._ He grabs the pan and another one for the scrambled eggs.

While he makes breakfast – he doesn't even have time to ponder the absurdity of being in someone else's kitchen using their things, Castiel is practically a stranger – he tries to examine the notion that Castiel would know Dean from every angle but he comes up with nothing.

When Castiel comes out from the bathroom, he looks like a freaking model. Blue jeans that hug him in the right places and a white linen shirt, that makes his eyes stand out in stark contrast. He looks gorgeous.

“You cleaned up good,” Dean says it nonchalantly but catches Castiel's smile at the words.

“Thank you. I think I'd appreciate you both ways, clean and _dirty_.”

Dean clears his throat and Castiel laughs. “Too forward? I think you know that I like you by now?”

“Nah, not too forward. I'm just not used to someone being so – ”

“ – honest?”

“I'd say blunt but if honest works for you.” They sit down at the table. “I don't know what you usually have for breakfast so I made a bunch of stuff.”

Castiel grabs a plate and scoops up some eggs. “This looks great, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean feels a sense of pride at those words, which is ridiculous. He's just made breakfast but the thank you from Castiel seems genuine like he really means the thank you and doesn't just use it as an empty word. As he spreads hummus on a piece of toast and sprinkles on some seeds, Dean plates up with bacon.

“Alright Cas, you're Cas now.” Dean takes a sip of the hot coffee that was done a minute ago to stall just a few more seconds.

Castiel smiles at that. “Cas works.”

“What did you mean that you were expecting me? Why the hell do you have bacon in your fridge?” It almost comes out like an accusation but Castiel doesn't seem offended.

“Is it odd to have bacon in the fridge?” There is humor in Castiel's voice. He takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Yes! You're a vegetarian. You're drinking liquid grass for fuck sake.”

Castiel laughs at that. “It's wheatgrass tea, Dean.”

“The same thing,” Dean mutters.

“You should try it sometimes. It's high in nutrients and antioxidants.” Castiel takes a sip of his tea and smiles over the rim of his cup. “As for if I was expecting the soul that is Dean Winchester when I moved in? You could say that. Mildred is my grandmother.”

Dean stares at Castiel. “Your grandmother is _Mildred?_ ”

Castiel nods and grabs a handful of seeds. “I hope that won't ruin the idea of you dating me?”

Dean pauses at that. “I wasn't planning on...”

Castiel arches a questioning eyebrow at that.

The revelations – almost before breakfast at that – are almost too much to handle but the small part of Dean that has hoped for this isn't easily shut down. He tries not to waiver on his voice as he speaks. “I'm not... are we... Is this a date, Cas?”

Castiel grins. “It is now.”


End file.
